


Fish Out of Water

by BearlyWriting



Series: SladeRobin Week 2020 [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Biting, Blood and Injury, Breeding, Captivity, Day 2: Merfolk, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Past minor character death, SladeRobin Week 2020, mentioned mpreg, only very briefly mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:55:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27216040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BearlyWriting/pseuds/BearlyWriting
Summary: "The other mer seems entirely unconcerned by the display, his single eye raking over Jason’s body with lazy consideration. It’s so obvious that he considers Jason absolutely no threat at all, that Jason bristles. Sure, the mer is bigger and no doubt far more experienced than him, but Jason could do some damage if he really wanted to.Jason isn’t about to roll over and flash his belly for anyone."For the SladeRobin Week prompt Merfolk.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd/Slade Wilson
Series: SladeRobin Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1986958
Comments: 24
Kudos: 198
Collections: Jason Todd Rare Pair Challenge, SladeRobin Week 2020





	Fish Out of Water

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first fic of this year's SladeRobin! I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Please mind the tags and do let me know if you think I've missed any!

Jason flicks his tail lazily, propelling himself across the length of the tank in one easy movement. It’s not as if it’s a particularly long distance. Even back when he was a calf, far smaller and weaker than he is now, he could have probably managed a greater distance. He had done, he thinks, although his memories of that time are blurry and indistinct.

The glass stops him, as it always does. Jason’s tail twitches irritably, even as he twists to make his way back across the water. They’ve cleaned it recently and the pool tastes vaguely of chlorine. It’s making his skin itch, tight and uncomfortable. When his tail brushes against Dick on yet another lap, as the other mer works through his own stretches, he can’t help snapping his teeth in irritation.

Dick whirls on him, baring his own teeth in warning. Instinctively, Jason’s fins flare, a snarl ripping out of his throat and Dick’s face darkens before he pounces on him, pinning him to the bottom of the tank.

Jason only has time to curl his tail beneath him in preparation to push upwards, before Dick’s weight suddenly lifts.

Immediately, Jason pushes himself upright. Above him, Bruce is pulling Dick backwards, one huge arm wrapped around the other mer’s waist. Dick snaps at him too, razor sharp teeth grazing the scaly skin beneath Bruce’s gills. It’s an unusual display of aggression from Dick and it pulls Jason up short. Dick and Bruce, too, if the sudden surprised stillness is anything to go off of.

Living so close together, without the miles and miles of ocean they’re supposed to be afforded, leads to plenty of fights. But Dick is usually better at keeping control of himself than this. He hasn’t always been - both Dick and Bruce have the scars to prove that - but he’s mellowed out a lot since his adolescent years. It’s been a long time since he’s risen to any of Jason’s aggression like this.

Jason knows exactly what the humans think of them - that they’re vicious animals who can’t even keep from hurting each other. But Jason knows this constant frustration and bickering isn’t normal. They aren’t supposed to feel like this.

“Dick,” Bruce rumbles, clicking at the back of his throat in the same way he would if he were disciplining an unruly calf. “What’s gotten into you?”

“What’s gotten into me?” Dick snaps. “What about Jason?”

“You’re the one that pinned me!” Jason shrieks.

Bruce’s eyes narrow. His gills flare. Then, abruptly, he drops Dick, crossing the short space to Jason with a flick of his tail. Jason tries to jerk back but Bruce is quicker, gripping Jason’s upper arms with strong fingers. His tail twists around Jason’s as he tries to beat a hasty retreat, effectively stilling him.

“B,” Jason starts, alarmed. 

Bruce ignores him, running webbed hands across Jason’s shoulders instead, before shifting to his ribs, then down to his waist. Jason beats his tail to try to dislodge him but Bruce has never been easy to move. When Bruce leans in to sniff at Jason’s gills, though, running a hand over the scales at the top of his waist at the same time, Jason loses his patience.

“Get off,” he huffs, finally pushing hard enough to force Bruce away.

Bruce floats back a few feet. There’s a strange tension to his face and his gills are pulsing faster than normal, fluttering against his throat. Jason feels a strange prickle across his skin.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Bruce’s tail twitches. When he speaks, his voice is painfully soft. “You’ve come into season, Jay.”

Shock sends an electric current down Jason’s spine. Beside Bruce, Dick makes a soft, startled sound.

“No I haven’t,” Jason says, stupidly, although he’s known this was coming for a long time. Knowing and _knowing_ are two entirely different things, though. Suddenly, Jason feels terribly young. Some of his scales are still the dark grey of his childhood tail, little mottled patches of near-black against the vibrant red of his adult scales. Jason won’t lose them for another year, at least.

“It’s okay,” Bruce says. “It’s nothing to worry about. We just need to get a nest set up and -“

Bruce stops abruptly, his tail swishing back and forth beneath him in sudden agitation. It’s not hard to tell what’s upset him - there’s never been any decent nesting material in their tank, or any material for that matter. Their tank is kept entirely bare most of the time, with the exception of the basking rocks piled up at one end. When Talia had been pregnant - back before she had died - they’d introduced some sea grass and a collection of smaller rocks and Bruce had done his best to cobble together something passable. Back out in the ocean, Talia wouldn’t have given it the time of day, but in here, with so little else to comfort them, it had been enough.

Bruce floats close enough to cup a gentle hand around Jason’s arm and drag him close. Jason lets him, his body instinctively seeking the comfort and protection of his father, soothed by the strength of Bruce’s arms as he wraps them tight around him. He drops his head against the curve of Bruce’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of his dad from the scaly patch beneath his scales.

“I can’t believe you’re in season, little fin” Dick coos, excitedly from somewhere over Bruce’s shoulder. A hand touches his tail and Jason twitches away, still irritable and oversensitive. “Almost all your scales have changed too.”

Bruce hums, rubbing one cheek against the top of Jason’s head. “You won’t be my little baby anymore, soon.”

Jason grunts at that, pulling himself out of Bruce’s arms with a scowl. “I’m not your baby now.”

Technically, Jason never has been. He still remembers the pod he’d had before this, although not always as clearly as he would like. They’d been small and slightly ragged, but Jason had been with his _real_ parents then - out in the true wilderness of the wide open ocean. Sure, his dad back then had been vicious, snapping and slashing at Jason whenever the calf had gotten in his way, and his mom had been sick with a years-old injury, but they’d been free. When Jason had been taken from them, he’d mourned for weeks, refusing to let Bruce or Dick or even Alfred anywhere near him, wailing softly to himself and sticking to the bottom of the tank, furious at his handlers and his strange new tank-mates.

Jason still hasn’t quite given up on that little spark of hope that they might one day all be free again, even if none of them ever speak of it. Damian - Bruce’s only true calf, and the only one of them to be born in the facility - has never even seen the real ocean. Back when he was very little, Dick had told him stories of his own old pod, his voice soft with wistful nostalgia, but none of the others ever speak of their life before. It’s too painful.

“You’ll always be my baby,” Bruce says softly and Jason scoffs, flicking his tail, but doesn’t argue.

“Is everything alright over here?”

Jason startles at Alfred’s voice. He hadn’t even noticed the older mer approaching. Alfred has a way of moving that’s practically soundless and it always seems as if the water parts seamlessly around him.

“Jay’s in season,” Dick says brightly, before Jason can say anything himself.

Alfred, always unruffled, turns to smile warmly at Jason. “Congratulations. That is wonderful news.”

Jason flushes. This whole thing is stupid. Being in season isn’t anything special, and yet, he can’t stop himself from preening at Alfred’s words - at the attention. If they were out in the ocean, Jason knows that all three of the adult mers would still be fussing over him, grooming him and patrolling their territory and doing unnecessary defensive dances. But, despite everything, Jason still finds it awkward to acknowledge that this is his pod now - that Bruce and Dick and Alfred _should_ be doing that sort of thing for him. He knows Willis wouldn’t have.

“It’s no big deal,” Jason murmurs. The last thing he wants is to attract Tim and Damian’s attention too. The two calves are more likely to make fun of him for it than anything else.

“Of course it is,” Dick starts to say, but he’s cut off by the shrill sound of a whistle.

It’s _the_ whistle. The one that calls them to dinner or training or _entertainment_. Technically, they don’t have to obey it. Early on, Jason had often ignored it, through ignorance or defiance. Nowadays, he finds it’s easier to just do what their handlers want. Besides, he’d gotten tired of going hungry.

They all turn immediately to the source of the sound. Bruce’s face tightens, unhappy in a way he normally isn’t. And Jason knows it’s because he’s in season and the knowledge makes him feel both slightly uncomfortable and pleasantly warm.

The whistle sounds again. From seemingly nowhere, Damian appears at Bruce’s elbow, pushing himself against his father’s side.

“They’re calling,” he says, eyeing Jason with some suspicion. “Why are you all just floating over here?”

“We heard it, Damian,” Bruce assures, resting one webbed hand on the top of Damian’s head. “Let’s go see what they want..”

Bruce sticks close to Jason for the entire length of the tank as they make their way to the basking rocks where their handlers will be waiting. It’s both annoying and gratifying. As always, Bruce beaches himself first, heaving his huge body up onto the rocks. Alfred and Damian go next. Then the rest of them follow, launching themselves out of the water with practiced ease.

The rocks are rough against the sensitive scales of Jason’s tail. The handlers are already chattering, talking in their strangely flat voices, tossing fish for each of them to catch. Every few fish, the handlers will ask for a high-five, or a clap, or for a flick of the tail. One of them circles around to Jason’s side, crouching down and reaching out to touch the scales at his waist. They say something in that strangely flat voice of theirs and one of the other handlers scurries away. Then they drag their hand down the length of Jason’s tail.

They’ve been doing it all week - running dry hands over his tail and waist, chattering excitedly amongst themselves - but today, Jason is sensitive and irritable and he pushes away from the contact, plunging back into the water with an irritable string of clicks.

There’s a lot of noise then. Several splashes as Bruce and probably Dick launch themselves back into the tank after him. They don’t reach Jason, though, because, suddenly, there’s a net in the water, a barrier between Jason and the rest of the tank.

Jason’s heart rate spikes. Adrenaline surges through his whole body. Whenever they bring the net out, it’s never good news and Jason can’t stop his instinctive reaction to it. Every time, he feels an echo of the fear and pain of that first time. It’s stupid, because they’ve used the net on Jason plenty of times and it’s never been as bad as that, but he can’t stop the reaction.

Bruce throws himself at the net, sharp claws slashing at the plastic. It’s the same every time. Despite knowing that nothing bad happens, Bruce always fights to keep them together. He never lets them go easily. And, now, Bruce is overprotective, riled up from Jason’s season, desperate not to be separated from his son.

It’s pointless. None of them have ever been able to do more than fray the material.

Slowly, the net moves, sweeping through the water, crowding Jason towards one of the walls of the tank. There’s a small metal grill set into the wall, big enough to accomodate Bruce but only just. It’s very rarely open. It opens now, as Jason is forced towards it. The tunnel beyond gapes, dark and foreboding.

Bruce shrieks behind him, furious. Jason turns and presses himself against the net, beating his powerful tail in an attempt to break free. That never works either. But Jason isn’t going to stop trying.

Eventually, though, the only place to go is the little entrance. And in Jason’s experience, it’s usually easier to do as the handlers wish. Jason angles himself to slip his body into the gap, floating into the tunnel beyond.

Jason has been through plenty of these makeshift tunnels before, whenever they’re moved to a new tank, or one of them needs medical attention, or sometimes seemingly just for fun. But it disturbs Jason every time - the net blocking him off from his family behind him, the stretch of the tunnel before him, no end in sight, like the hollow of a long throat. He swishes his tail in agitation, pushing back against the net behind him. The rest of his pod have reached the net by now, although the handlers are trying to keep them back, wielding familiar poles in an effort to keep them apart.

Behind him, Bruce croons in an attempt to reassure Jason. It doesn’t exactly work. Jason lashes his tail again, feeling his gills fluttering against his throat. It’s not fear, he tells himself, because Jason knows that the worst that’s waiting for him on the other side is an uncomfortable examination or some of those sharp little pricks they sometimes give him. Most likely, there’s just another tank on the other side. Maybe there’ll even be fish waiting for him.

But every single time, Jason is terrified that his family won’t come with him. Or that he won’t get to come back.

No. That won’t happen. It won’t. Every single time, they’ve always been reunited. It’s never like it was the first time, when the net had closed around him and his pod - as small and shitty as it had been - had slashed in desperation at the web of it, screaming and wailing as he’d begged for them to save him. It’s different now. _They_ created this pod. They won’t tear them apart now.

Still, Jason can’t quite suppress the queasy anxiety in his gut as he finally pushes away from the net, drifting down into the darkness of the tunnel. It’s a shorter one than normal, only one long curve before the light starts to return, dappled through the water, broken and distorted by the depth of the pool beyond.

Jason draws up short, twitching his tail beneath him to keep himself balanced. Already, he can tell that the tank is bigger than the meager pool his pod is currently afforded. If they’re being upgraded...well, Jason certainly won’t complain.

It isn’t until he’s already propelled himself into the tank and the metal grill has closed behind him with a final clank, that Jason realises it’s already occupied.

Jason flinches back against the grill automatically. The mer inside is huge - the biggest Jason has seen in as long as he can remember. His tail is almost the length of Jason’s entire body and twice as thick, the scales dark and gleaming in the watery light. His upper half is just as impressive, his arms and chest roped with corded muscle. Shiny white scars draw a map across his skin, criss-crossing over his arms and chest. One of his eyes is just a mass of scar tissue, one thin line bisecting the old wound from above his eyebrow. There are pink patches on his tail, too, where the scales have been ripped away.

He’s obviously a fighter - and a good one at that to have survived as many battles as the scars suggest. Despite himself, Jason feels something coil low in his belly. It’s not a sensation he’s really felt before and it leaves him a little queasy. It’s hard to differentiate between the arousal and anxiety that are both twisting inside of him.

Then the mer finally seems to spot him and the anxiety detaches itself from the tight knot in his stomach to surge through his entire body. He can feel his fins flaring instinctively, his gills fluttering and his lips pulling back from razor sharp teeth. The other mer seems entirely unconcerned by the display, his single eye raking over Jason’s body with lazy consideration. It’s so obvious that he considers Jason absolutely no threat at all, that Jason bristles. Sure, the mer is bigger and no doubt far more experienced than him, but Jason could do some damage if he really wanted to.

Jason isn’t about to roll over and flash his belly for anyone.

So when the mer circles closer, his huge body moving through the water with surprising ease, Jason snarls. It draws the huge mer up short. He cocks his head curiously and Jason can see his gills flare as he scents the water but he doesn’t move closer. Jason snarls again.

A string of low clicks issues from the other mer’s throat. This time, Jason tilts his own head. There’s no sense to the sound that he can determine. It’s not clear whether it’s meant to be a warning, or a greeting, or maybe just a nonsensical noise he’s making for the hell of it. The only thing Jason can think to do is click his own greeting. But there’s no recognition from the other mer, either.

Clearly, they just don’t understand each other - or, at least, each other’s greetings.

“What do you want?” Jason tries, not bothering to hide the aggressive edge to the words. “Who are you?”

If the mer understands that, he gives no indication of it. Instead, he drops a little in the water, sinking until he’s level with Jason where he’s cowering back against the grill. Jason bares his teeth again in warning but the mer ignores him. Instead of backing away, he glides closer, issuing another indecipherable string of clicks and low rumbles that mean about as much to Jason as the previous attempt. Jason tries to backpedal hastily, but the metal of the grill at his back keeps him in place.

“Back up,” he tries, holding one webbed hand out in an attempt to ward the larger mer off. Just because Jason’s pod like to get up close and personal, doesn’t mean he’s going to take the invasion of his personal space from a stranger.

But the other mer doesn’t seem to particularly care what Jason wants. He knocks Jason’s outstretched arm aside with one careless swipe, then pushes close enough to press his nose to the scaly patch of skin beneath his gills. It’s such a shocking invasion of Jason’s space that he snaps his teeth automatically. It’s not a proper bite, but it grazes skin and Jason gets a taste of blood as it blooms in the water.

It’s probably a mistake to attack a mer so much bigger and more experienced than him, but Jason barely lets his own family scent him, if he can help it. The other mer needs a serious lesson on manners.

And it gets the mer to jerk back enough that Jason can dart away from the cage of his body. There’s not exactly much space to put between them, but Jason propels himself to the other side of the tank as quickly as he can. He can feel his heart beating hard in his throat. His tail itches. A prickle of unease raises the hairs on the back of his neck. Then the other mer is on top of him, its huge weight blanketing over him, sharp claws pressing hard into Jason’s arms as he pins him to the bottom of the tank.

Jason thrashes automatically, beating hard with his tail, trying to twist his body to get his claws within striking distance of the other mer’s face. But the grip on his arms is like iron and the tail pressing against his back is far too heavy to shift. It feels more like a slab of stone on top of him, rather than living flesh. Jason writhes but there’s no give. The other mer just sinks closer, crushing the air out of Jason, growling low in his throat. And Jason might not fully understand him, but he understands the warning in that sound. He just doesn’t know what to do about it.

“Wait,” he tries, flaring the fins at the base of his tail, even though the other mer won’t be able to see the signal from where he’s pressed against Jason. “Wait. Let me...”

Sharp teeth close over the back of his neck.

Jason screeches as white-hot pain slices down his spine. It hurts in a way that nothing else has before, all of the sensitive nerve endings in Jason’s body flaring in response to the bite. The brush of the other mer’s scales as it curls its heavy tail around him has his whole body throbbing. Something hard and hot presses against the tense muscle of his tail and Jason’s stomach drops. He can taste the other mer’s arousal in the water. He knows exactly what is going to happen next.

No. _No_. This isn’t right. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. Sure, Jason is in season but that doesn’t mean...that doesn’t mean he’s ready for _this_. There are still dark grey patches from his calf-hood littering his tail. Jason hasn’t had time to learn about courting or nesting or any of the stuff that is supposed to lead up to this.

Not that the mer above him seems particularly interested in courting. Even if Jason could understand him, he doubts they’d manage a successful mating dance. When Talia had been in season, it had been days before she and Bruce had actually gotten together. The whole pod had had to put up with Bruce flaring and dancing and fussing about having nothing to create a nest with.

And Jason wants that. He wants someone to care about him. He wants someone to dance for him. He wants someone to go up against Bruce and Dick in a battle for his affections. He doesn’t want this. He absolutely does not want to be taken with no courtship at all by a mer he doesn’t even understand.

Strength and prowess are important, but they don’t mean anything to Jason if he can’t be sure the other mer will stay to look after their calves. Not that Jason thinks he’s going to get any say in the matter.

When the mer finally releases it’s jaws, Jason tastes blood in the water. He feels weak and shocky, his neck throbbing, his tail itching like he’s infested with mites. One enormous hand releases him and more blood blooms from the shallow cuts pierced into his skin.

The mer flips him as easily as if he were a calf. Jason lashes out with his free arm, slicing shallow furrows across one huge cheek. The mer jerks back in automatic reflex and Jason squirms himself free from the now-lax grip and shoots himself across the bottom of the pool.

Claws grab at him, sink into him, tear deep wounds into his tail as it slips out from under the other mer. Jason screeches again, his own claws flying automatically to the other mer’s wrists, digging in hard enough to bloom more blood that is not his own in the water. It doesn’t get the other mer to release him though, and Jason groans in agony as the claws in his tail dig deeper and slowly drag him back under that enormous body.

Some of the pretty red scales that Jason had been so proud of growing into are floating around him in the water, bright speckles amongst the clouds of blood. Jason’s tail throbs in over-sensitive agony. If he were on land, he knows tears would be streaking down his face. Instead, his throat vibrates with a high, keening cry. Through the water, from what feels like very, very far away, Jason hears an answering cry. If the mer above him hears his family’s attempt to reach him, though, he gives no sign of it.

One of the hands lifts from his tail, twists quickly enough to dislodge Jason’s claws, before closing around his wrist in a crushing grip. Jason hears the snap of bone before he feels it but the shock doesn’t last long. Queasy pain flares along his arm, aching in his shoulder, forcing him to set his teeth against another wounded noise. The claws still in his tail just dig deeper. Above him the other mer growls, so deep that it seems more like vibrations in the water than any real sound.

The hot tip of the other mer’s detracted penis slides over the scales covering Jason’s tightly closed slit. Jason can feel all the muscles of that huge tail working as it undulates against him, seeking entrance. Despite himself, the strength evident in just that one movement has sparks of arousal shooting through him. It doesn’t negate the pain and fear burning through Jason’s body, just has his stomach clenching queasily at the weird mix of sensation.

If the proper courting had been done - if this was happening after a long, drawn-out mating dance - Jason’s slit would be open in preparation by now. Instead, the other mer’s penis slides over it again and again with no purchase. Jason lies still beneath the crushing weight of him, whimpering at every thrust, terrified that each one will finally force the clenching walls of his slit apart.

Eventually, the other mer seems to lose patience. With a furious snarl, he thrusts the thumb of the hand gripping Jason’s tail into the thin space between his scales. The breadth of his hand means that he doesn’t even need to shift his grip. Jason keens again in shock and pain as one sharp claw buries itself into the sensitive skin of his slit and tugs sideways. Water rushes into the exposed gap, a cold shock, and Jason thrashes as best he can in terror.

“Stop,” he begs, although there is no evidence that the other mer can even understand his pleas, let alone cares. “ _Please_ , stop.”

The other mer doesn’t, of course. Instead, he forces his penis into Jason’s wrenched-open slit with one brutal thrust.

Jason’s keen is closer to a scream. Again, he can hear an answering call from his family - more than one of them this time - and the thought that they can hear this, that they know he’s terrified and in pain but can’t do anything to help him, tears at his chest. His heart is beating so hard that the throb of his pulse has his gills fluttering. Above him, the other mer growls again, tightening his grip impossibly as he flexes his tail, dragging his penis against the sensitive walls of Jason’s slit before driving himself back in.

It hurts. It hurts so fucking bad. The only thing Jason has to compare to the shock of agony as the mer tears him apart, is the terror he’d felt when those nets had closed around him and ripped him away from his family. Beneath his enormous weight, Jason feels painfully small. Every thrust drives the mer’s penis so deep that Jason can feel it battering against the back of his channel, carving him open. It feels as though it shouldn’t fit. It feels impossible. It _hurts_.

And Jason knows it shouldn’t be like this. He remembers how Bruce had been with Talia. With the size of their tank, it had been impossible to ignore, even if courtship and mating isn’t something that would usually be done in front of the entire pod. Talia had never been in pain. There had never been blood in the water, never been pained cries or fear or Bruce throwing his weight around. If anything, Bruce had always been exceedingly gentle, with Talia and with the rest of the pod. 

In this moment, Jason wants him here so badly he can barely breathe. He wants Bruce to fight for him. He wants his father here to keep this mer away from him, to stop him from attacking Jason, to hold him and soothe his pain and fear away. But Bruce isn’t here. Bruce is a whole tank away, separated from Jason by two metal grills and the tunnel Jason had stupidly swam down. It’s just Jason and the other mer here. No one is going to separate them. No one is going to save Jason.

So all Jason can do is lie still and take it as the bigger mer forces himself into him again and again. None of his struggles have worked. It’s been proved to Jason - painfully - that he’s too weak to stop what’s happening to him. What other option does he have?

The only option left to Jason is to try to lessen the pain.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the other mer’s rhythm falters. The muscles of his tail tense. A low growl rumbles out of his throat. He presses so close that Jason feels his ribs creak beneath the pressure. Then sharp teeth close around Jason’s throat, catching one of his gills painfully as they sink into his flesh. Jason screams again, thrashing beneath the mer’s weight. The mer thrusts hard inside him one final time before hot seed rushes into Jason’s channel. The sensation has Jason’s stomach clenching again, his tail bucking in instinctive revulsion.

Then, abruptly, the other mer is gone. Jason’s slit clamps shut as the mer’s penis retracts, a biological drive to keep the seed inside him where it can fertilise his eggs. Part of Jason wants to rip it open and force his own fingers inside of himself to clear the seed out. The last thing he wants is for his first ever clutch to take. The last thing he wants is to have a calf, now, while he’s barely past calf-hood himself. The last thing he wants is to have the child of the mer who just attacked him.

But Jason can’t bring himself to touch his slit. Not whilst it’s torn and ragged and throbbing with pain. Not whilst the mer is still in the tank with him, circling slowly, like he’s anticipating an intruder he’ll have to fight off. If only, Jason thinks bitterly, although the idea of _another_ mer deciding they want a turn at Jason makes his stomach flip. It won’t happen, any way. There’s only the two of them here.

Jason lies still at the bottom of the tank. His whole body aches. Pain draws his throat tight. His ruined gill flares in agony every time he tries to draw a breath. His tail hurts so badly that it feels almost numb. He doesn’t have the strength to move, even if he wanted to. 

When the mer finally finishes circling and darts down towards him, Jason finds the strength to force himself upright. It’s pointless, because the mer pins him down as easily as he had before. More wounds open beneath his claws. Jason whines, a desperate, pleading sound. The mer just snarls. Jason can feel his penis detracting again, sliding against his abused slit.

No. _No_. Jason can’t do this again.

Except, the other mer clearly doesn’t care what Jason wants.

⁂

Later, once the mer is finally satisfied that Jason’s clutch has taken with his seed, the metal grill opens. The other mer doesn’t even seem to notice, lying on the bottom of the pool a few feet away from Jason, his single eye closed. That doesn’t mean that he isn’t aware of exactly what Jason is doing, though, so he waits a few desperate heart beats before hesitantly pushing himself away from the bottom.

Jason’s tail screams with every flex of the muscles there, but getting away from the other mer is more important than anything else right now, so Jason forces the pain to the back of his mind. He keeps his wrist cradled protectively against his chest. Nothing stops him. Jason’s heart is pounding in his head. He’s hyper aware of the other mer behind him, of the stretch of water between him and safety.

Then he’s in the tunnel and the grill is closing behind him, and the relief that floods through Jason’s whole body has his head spinning. He’s out. He’s free. The mer in the tank behind him can’t reach him anymore. He can’t pin him down and take him regardless of Jason’s feelings on the matter. He can’t dig sharp claws into Jason’s flesh and tear him apart. Jason has no idea how many times the mer had forced himself on him - at the end, each coupling had blurred into each other, just a mass of pain and horror - he has no idea how long he’s been trapped in that tank. All he knows is that he wants to be back in his own tank, with his pod.

The tunnel stretches ahead of him. Jason floats listlessly through the water. Despite his longing to be back with the pod, Jason hurts too much to force himself forward any quicker. As long as he’s out of there, he can afford to take a few extra minutes.

He barely even notices that he’s hit the metal grill at the other end. Distantly, he can hear his family’s frantic calls but they barely seem to penetrate the haze in his head. Then the grill slides away and suddenly, hands are on him, dragging him through the water, fluttering over his skin, his tail, his hair.

Jason flinches at the first touch to the scales creeping over his waist and suddenly the hands are gone. Someone croons, low and comforting in his ear and Jason keens in response. It’s the sort of sound his mom might have made for him once upon a time. Although, if she had, Jason had been too young to remember it.

“Jay?” A deep voice murmurs. The hand that had been urgently touching his waist now hovers in the water, fluttering close to his skin but not actually making contact. “What happened? Son, where did they take you?”

It’s Bruce, because of course it’s Bruce. Jason had heard his frantic call when he’d keened in pain as the mer had forced himself inside him. He’d known he’d be waiting for him, back in his tank.

Dick is there too, stroking through his hair, worrying at the torn gill that’s fluttering aimlessly in the water. Jason twitches away from his touch too, and Dick lets out an concerned string of clicks in response.

Jason is so glad to understand them that he almost cries.

“I don’t know,” he manages, though a vice-tight throat. It feels like there isn’t enough oxygen left in his body to get the words out. “Another...there was another mer there. He...vroke my wrist. It hurts, dad.”

Bruce makes a low, distressed sound at the back of his throat. Two thick arms wrap around Jason and pull him forward, pressing him flush against a strong chest. It feels nothing like it had when he’d been pressed under the enormous bulk of the nameless mer. It feels warm and comforting and...if he were on land Jason would probably burst into tears about now. Instead, he keens, surprisingly high, and Bruce just drags him closer, pressing his nose into the scaly patch beneath his jaw.

The hands return, stroking over the corded muscles of his tail, brushing lightly - a feather’s touch - over Jason’s swollen slit. The wounded noise that slips out of his mouth is entirely involuntary. There’s blood in the water, clouding the space between him and his father, from his torn-open slit, from the bitemarks and claw marks the other mer had left on him. There’s no way his father doesn’t know exactly what happened to him. Jason feels small and sick at the knowledge.

“Jay,” Bruce says, choked. “Did he breed you?”

Jason still feels numb and far away. He has no idea what the right answer to that is. He has no idea what to say but the truth.

“Yes,” he manages, hoarse and raspy with the pain from his gills. “Yeah, B, he - he bred me.”

The noise Bruce makes is terrible. Jason wishes he hadn’t heard it. Wishes, more than anything, that he hadn’t been the one to cause it. Bruce doesn’t deserve that. None of his family do.

“He didn’t - he didn’t dance with me. I couldn’t even understand him.”

“It’s okay,” Bruce croons, stroking through Jason’s hair again, sharp claws pricking at his scalp. “It’s over now. You won’t have to go through that again.”

Talia had only ever bred with Bruce once. Then again, Talia had died soon after Damian was born.

If it’s a choice…

No. Jason can’t give up. Not because of this. Not because of some nameless mer. He’s back with his pod now. His clutch has taken - of that Jason has little doubt. Soon he’ll have a calf of his own, just like Damian. Jason can’t leave them. He can’t force Bruce to take care of a baby that isn’t even his own.

Talia hadn’t given up, either, she’d fought for Damian until her dying breath. Jason isn’t going to let anything like this happen to his calf. Not if he can stop it.

The sharp sound of the whistle cuts through the water. Around him, Bruce’s muscles tense. He growls, low in his throat. Not a single member of their pod moves to answer it. They float around Jason like bodyguards, quiet and protective.

The whistle sounds again.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a tumblr at [bearly-writing](https://bearly-writing.tumblr.com/) if you fancy dropping by for a chat!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Redfish](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27645418) by [Bionerd2Point0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bionerd2Point0/pseuds/Bionerd2Point0)




End file.
